


An Exchange of Hostages

by Leela



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snapelyholidays, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Parseltongue, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Leela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a Parselmouth, the Dark Mark is far more than a tattoo. For four former Death Eaters sentenced to life imprisonment, it's a chance at freedom and a future outside of Gravesend Prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Exchange of Hostages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiv5468](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiv5468/gifts).



> **Betas:** eeyore9990, florida_minxie, the_flic  
>  **Author Notes:** Written for shiv5468 for Snapelyholidays in 2009 — way overdue for reposting. shiv5468 mentioned _Post war, coming to terms with their new lives_ , _meaningful glances and coded conversations_ , and _Hermione comes to see them_ ; and my imagination created this story.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" Hermione brushed her fingers over the illuminated snake that wound its way across the stained pages of the book Harry and Bill had brought to her. The scent of vellum and age coming off this handwritten book made her want to clutch it to her and take it home, away from Harry who couldn't possibly understand the appreciation and care that such an ancient volume required.

"It's all right there." Harry all but stabbed his hand at the words about halfway down the left-hand page. "Explains how to cast and reverse a spell the writer calls _Morsmordre Hominis_ , although I haven't a clue how he gets that from the words of the curse. The curse seems fairly simple, actually, considering what it does."

"If you speak Parseltongue," Bill added. "The rest of us are nothing more than potential slaves to the caster."

Hermione bent over and studied the words, calculated the arithmantic values of the letters alone and in combination, and came up with only one question. "And you're sure it works?"

"Well..." Harry shuffled his feet in that annoying way he had.

Raising her head, Hermione brushed her hair back from her face. "Well?"

"The theory is that that's a limitation imposed by the Basilisk blood used for tattoo ink. Only a Parselmouth can communicate with and control a Basilisk." Harry shrugged. "We proved that in second year."

"Does it work?" Hermione repeated.

But then Bill placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry, rather than being intimidated by Hermione's look and blurting out everything she wanted to know, half-smiled at Bill and said, "We're _fairly_ sure it works."

"After we found the book in the attics at Grimmauld, and read Lycoris Black's margin notes, we tested the curse as completely as we could. Since it's carried in the tattoo, and Basilisk ink is illegal, we can't give you the kind of proof you need for the Wizengamot." Bill scrubbed at his jaw, crinkling the scars on the left side of his face. "We need test subjects who already have a Basilisk ink tattoo."

"What we need are Death Eaters," Harry said, "and everyone with a Dark Mark is either dead, out of the country, or at Gravesend for the foreseeable. I... we were hoping you'd be able to get us access to them."

"You don't ask for much, do you?" Hermione shook her head, biting her lip against the urge to snicker at Harry's expression. He was clearly trying not to stick his tongue out at her, as if they were six, instead of twenty-six. She considered the spell again. It really was likely they were correct. "All right," she said, "but I want to be part of this."

~*~

Two weeks later, they were sitting in a small conference room at the Ministry. The room was accessible only through the Minister's office and only in the presence of the Minister. Unlike every other conference room in the building, this table was round and couldn't be magically expanded. In fact, the room was warded against all but a very specific list of presentation-related spells, and their wands were locked into channels carved into the table in front of their seats.

The room was plain. No portraits or other paintings were allowed in this room. MagiBoards took up most of two walls, currently displaying the calculations and diagrams from the presentation that Hermione and Bill had put together and notes from their discussions. One wall held a magical window that provided a rotating view of places in Wizarding Britain — the point of which escaped Hermione, although she was sure there must be one. The display on the last wall tracked the status of Auror and Unspeakable operations, identifiable only by codename or number.

Undoing the clasp that held her hair back, Hermione ran her hands through the curly strands, twisted it, and secured it back into place. They'd been at this for days, and she could only hope that this would be the end of it. If she had to face these people again, she was going to start saying some of the things they needed to hear but that she shouldn't say.

Everyone who sat around the table looked as tired as she felt. Their robes were rumpled, ties askew or discarded, and splatters of ink stained their skin and clothes.

For the second time that day and the eleventh time over the past three days, Harry and Bill were demonstrating what they believed were the effects of the _Morsmordre Hominis_ curse.

When it was over, Harry collapsed into the seat next to Hermione. His hands were trembling. Magical exhaustion, she diagnosed, and handed him one of the bars of chocolate she kept in her bag. He smiled at her, broke off half, and handed the rest to Bill, who didn't look much better.

"If they don't make up their minds today, I'm going to break a couple of the bastards out of Gravesend and do this myself," Harry whispered in Hermione's ear.

She couldn't muster up a frown, because she was ready to help him. The sticking point was that the Aurors and Unspeakables insisted on shoving their fingers into this particular cauldron. It was, quite likely, the discovery of the century, and the Head Auror and Head Unspeakable wanted their names on it.

The murmuring and background conversations became louder and louder as Kingsley continued to contemplate the MagiBoards. The curse itself was the only piece of proof that wasn't in the room. Despite the litany of protests, Kingsley had already added the curse to the list of Unforgivables and decreed it top-secret. No one who wasn't already aware of its existence was going to hear about it. Those few wizards and witches who did know about it had already taken an Unbreakable Vow to that effect.

"I still think we should confiscate the book," Alistair Croaker, the Head Unspeakable, said. "The Unspeakables—"

"Would create all sorts of havoc experimenting with the lost spells in it," Gawain Robards cut in. The Head Auror had made it clear, many times, that he objected to the Unspeakables getting their hands on the book. "Merlin knows what kind of mess we'd end up having to deal with, and the Aurors are short-handed as it is."

"I suppose you think the Aurors should have it." Croaker's hand slid in the direction of his wand.

"Well, we are the experts on illegal spells," Robards said.

"And, yet, you call on our department regularly to help you deal with them," Jemima Tofts, one of the Ministry's top curse-breakers, pointed out. "Your lot would get into just as much trouble as the Unspeakables."

Having heard variations on the same theme more than once, Hermione tuned out the rest of their conversation.

"They're not getting it, so you needn't worry," Harry murmured. "If they won't let me keep it in the library at Grimmauld, then I'm locking it into a vault at Gringotts and letting the goblins keep it safe. Kingsley won't be Minister forever, and I'm damned if I'll trust anyone else at the Ministry with it."

Tucking an errant piece of hair behind his ear, Bill leant forward and said, "They've got special vaults for objects like that book. No one will even be able to see it without your explicit permission."

Hermione twitched, barely able to contemplate the idea of hiding a book like that, locking all that knowledge away.

"It's only a last resort and temporary," Harry added. He laid a hand on her forearm and smiled. "You'll need time to create a safe and secure library for books like that, after all."

Relief washed through her. "But I'm a solicitor."

"Who better to run that kind of library, then?" Bill asked. "No one will be able to twist the laws and persuade you to hand books over, and you can always work for the Wizarding world's underprivileged in your spare time."

"Just think of all the books. The learning you could do," Harry said. "Hell, think of all the people you could help, if you had access to that kind of knowledge. You never know what's in some of the old pureblood libraries."

Before Hermione could agree, Kingsley cleared his throat. Everyone shut up and turned to face him.

Kingsley surveyed them. "I don't think we have any choice except to run the tests. As Ms Granger pointed out, not to do so would be an egregious breach of the new laws that guarantee everyone a fair trial before conviction and imprisonment."

Robards and Croaker immediately offered the services of their respective departments to oversee the tests. Tofts merely nodded in acceptance.

To Hermione's surprise, Kingsley said, "No. Granger, Potter, and Weasley will be responsible for all tests. They have the most knowledge of this curse, and nothing can happen without Potter's presence. Unless you know another Parselmouth?"

No one said anything, although the veins on Robards's cheeks and nose flushed purple.

"Robards, I want you to arrange for them to visit Gravesend tomorrow and meet with the Death Eaters incarcerated there." Kingsley turned his gaze on Hermione, Harry, and Bill. "No more than four of them, and they must all be volunteers. I want Unbreakable Vows. I don't want to hear any suggestions that we're running clandestine tests on prisoners, nor do I want to read anything about this in the _Prophet_. Am I understood?"

After they all agreed, he continued, "Croaker, I want you to set them up at a safe house. _Not Grimmauld_." He glared at Harry. "I want a Ministry safe house, unplottable and on lockdown. Top-level wards: no Apparition, no Portkeys, no Owls, and lock the Floo to my private Floo. Communication through the Floo and private CommPaper only. Unless one of you triggers the emergency alarm, no one goes in or out without the Secret Keeper's explicit approval. And I will be the Secret Keeper."

"Codename?" Croaker asked, opening a small notebook.

"Basilisk," Robards said, after running a thick finger down a couple of pages in his own, larger, book.

Croaker nodded and scribbled something down.

"Tofts, you'll be responsible for the Unbreakable Vows. Potter, Granger, and Weasley, you'll select the participants and conduct the tests. I want reports every day." Kingsley put his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet. "Oh, and Robards? Two handpicked Aurors on guard duty, no more. Croaker, you get the same number of Unspeakables."

"Can I make a suggestion?" Harry asked. When no one objected, he continued, "I know that a lot of the Aurors and possibly the Unspeakables had personal experience fighting some of these Death Eaters. If we have to have guards—" Harry's tone made his opinion of that clear "—then I don't want anyone who holds a grudge. If we're right about this, things are going to be enough of a mess without that."

"My thoughts exactly," agreed Robards. "In fact, I have a couple of people in mind already."

"Good enough," Kingsley said. "We'll meet again, day after tomorrow, and I expect you to be ready to start immediately."

~*~

"Insanity is a permanent side-effect of the curse," Bill said the next day, as they perused the list of Death Eaters in custody. "We don't want anyone who showed signs of insanity."

Hermione drew a line through Alecto Carrow's name. "Anyone else?"

"Might as well exclude her brother. The two were pretty inseparable at Hogwarts." Harry pointed at Amycus Carrow's name. "What about the Lestrange brothers? Can we take one without the other?"

"Dolohov's a good candidate," Bill said.

Harry shuddered. "So's Lucius Malfoy, but I wouldn't want to face either of them again."

"Actually," Hermione said, sitting back and drawing their attention. "Lucius Malfoy would be the perfect candidate. I know no one took his claim of being under _Imperius_ at the first trial seriously, but we can't ignore it."

"You have no idea how much I hate that you're right." Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "If you get Malfoy, then I want Snape. Getting him out of there is one of the reasons for doing this."

"Ginny may never forgive us, but I have to agree with you about Malfoy," Bill said. "It's never made any sense that someone with his power and influence would hand it all over to a half-blood."

"Okay." Hermione leant back and stretched, smiling when her spine cracked. "We've got Snape, Malfoy, Goyle, and Parkinson. Unless they turn us down, and I can't imagine they will, we're all set."

~*~

Severus took up his usual position in the back of the community room, with his back against the wall. The window to his left looked out over the courtyard. He had a clear path to the door.

The room was empty, which was unusual for a late Saturday afternoon. At that time of day, the tables and chairs were typically filled with prisoners playing games, reading books, and writing letters.

Not only had they summoned Severus to a meeting here, but they'd also prevented anyone else from using the room. He couldn't decide whether to be concerned or not.

He was still pondering the conundrum when Lucius sauntered into the room and came to stand next to him. Somehow, despite the execrable grey uniforms provided to all prisoners, Lucius managed to look respectable. His hair was in a neat plait — the guards having given up on cutting it after it kept growing back overnight — and his uniform actually fit.

Forcing his thoughts away from his own, far too baggy and very itchy, uniform, Severus asked, "Any rumours?"

"Nothing at all." Lucius frowned. "No one's heard a damn thing, not even the Warden's assistant."

"Odd."

"Highly."

"We'll have to wait, then."

"Unfortunately," Lucius agreed. "Although if they make me wait too long, I shall consider writing to the _Prophet_ again. Surely this must count as ill-treatment."

Severus snorted with amusement. "Do you honestly believe your letters—" He cut himself off as the door opened again.

This time, Goyle and Parkinson entered. She was huddled into his side, as always, not quite close enough to hinder his movements. Over the years they'd been incarcerated in Gravesend, she'd lost far too much weight. Her collarbones stood out, and the hollows beneath her cheekbones were too deep. Goyle seemed enormous in comparison.

As soon as she saw them, Parkinson straightened up and dragged Goyle over. "Hullo, sirs."

Lucius granted them a brief incline of his head, a move which made Severus's mouth twitch with the urge to smile. No matter his circumstances, Lucius managed to retain a degree of formality that was strangely reassuring. Not that Severus would ever tell him that.

"Parkinson, Goyle." Severus greeted them. He gestured to the chairs in front of them and watched while Goyle placed his own chair between Parkinson's and the door without blocking Severus's exit.

"Any hints?" Parkinson asked quietly.

Before Severus could respond, the door opened yet again. He couldn't stop his eyebrow from rising when he saw whom the guards were escorting: Harry Potter, Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger, and a Ministry curse-breaker — in uniform.

"Fascinating," Lucius murmured. His blank expression gave no indication of the surprise that was evidence in his voice.

"Truly," Severus responded.

Then Potter grinned at them, and Severus decided he should be extremely concerned.

~*~

Hermione would have smiled when Harry pushed past their escorts and went to perch on the table nearest their potential test subjects if Pansy Parkinson hadn't squeaked in distress and curled closer to Greg Goyle.

"He shouldn't do that," Tomlinson, one of their guards, muttered. "These prisoners are dangerous."

"Oh, please." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you weren't at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"When you've worked it out, come and talk to us about how dangerous your prisoners are," Hermione said. "In the meantime, _out_!"

The other guard, Parker objected, "We can't leave you alone with them."

"You can, and you will," Bill spoke up for the first time. "I'm sure you received instructions to that effect."

"But..."

Hermione left Bill and Tofts to take care of getting the guards out and went to join Harry.

"I'm not going to hold honesty against you," Harry was saying to Parkinson. "I bet that at least half the people in Hogwarts that night would have handed me over to Voldemort without blinking an eye, if they thought it would save their lives. You were just the only one willing to say it out loud."

The shocked look on Parkinson's face was painful for Hermione to see. Somehow, even reading the records of Parkinson's incarceration, Hermione had still expected her to act like the Slytherin ringleader she'd been at school.

"All warded," Bill announced, sitting on the table next to Harry and resting one foot on a chair. Tofts took up a position on the other side of the table.

"Wards?" Snape lifted an eyebrow. "Inside the prison?"

"Silencing and privacy," Bill assured him.

As Snape and Malfoy's expressions became even blanker, Hermione gave into an impulse. "If they hear anything we say to you, we'd have to kill them. And I have enough paperwork as it is."

And that got a response. Malfoy actually jerked, as if startled, and Snape snickered.

"What does that mean for us?" Parkinson asked in a small voice.

"If you accept our offer, then you get to leave with us," Bill answered.

"And if we refuse?" Suspicion darkened Malfoy's voice. "What happens to us?"

"You won't," Hermione said, with more confidence than she felt. "But whether you do or not, you'll be asked to take an Unbreakable Vow not to reveal anything we talk about here."

This time Snape objected, "If I refuse to subject myself to another life-destroying vow?"

"We're hoping that this one will save your life, not destroy it."

"Potter?" Snape ignored Hermione and turned to Harry. "I require your vow. Bind your life to mine. If I am to die for this, the least you can do is to die with me."

"No," Bill protested, even as Harry agreed.

"Tofts, come over and witness this, will you?" Harry asked, slipping off the table and going to his knees. He held out his hand to Snape. "Come on, then."

To Hermione's surprise, Snape shook his head. "Not necessary. I merely needed to be sure that you were willing to do it."

"I'm serious, Snape. Take the vow with me. All of you. And if something goes wrong, then we'll all be on the same broom."

While Snape and the others took the Unbreakable Vow with Harry, Hermione gestured to Bill. "Let's make this place more comfortable, shall we?"

They transfigured the wooden chairs into cushioned armchairs. With a glance at Parkinson and Goyle, Bill changed a table into a plush sofa. Hermione reached into her bottomless bag and pulled out the basket they'd picked up from Hannah at the Leaky Cauldron. She put out the bottles of Firewhisky, Butterbeer, and white wine, and opened the boxes of tarts, biscuits, and sandwiches.

Eventually, they were all sitting down with drinks and plates of food, and Hermione started on the explanation. As she talked, she could feel the weight of Snape's and Malfoy's eyes on her. They didn't eat or drink; they just watched her. When she was done, the only sounds in the room were the noises Goyle made as he ate.

Finally, Malfoy gripped his left forearm with his right hand and noted, "You want us to be lab rats."

"I want you to help us prove that you were coerced into becoming a Death Eater." Hermione shifted to the edge of her seat, leaning towards him.

"Even if this hypothesis of yours proves to be true, how can you possibly determine whether I committed acts of my own free will or because the Dark Lord compelled me to do so?" Malfoy asked.

"That's not our problem," Harry replied, before Hermione could say anything. "We're trying to give you a chance here. If we can prove that Voldemort—" Harry snorted when they flinched and Goyle dropped his plate "—what is it with Death Eaters and his name?"

"It hurts." Goyle looked mournfully at the scattered contents of his plate. "Every time I hear someone say his name, the Dark Mark burns."

"Interesting," Bill murmured. "Very interesting."

"Especially that the effect survived his death." Hermione reached for a quill and notebook and jotted herself a note to add that to the list of things to test.

Harry flicked his wand, Banishing the mess on the floor. Then he put together another plate of sandwiches, treacle tarts, and chocolate biscuits and handed that to Goyle. "You're coming with us, then?"

"Such a choice," sneered Snape. "We're hardly so enamoured with Gravesend that we'd choose incarceration over a chance at freedom, even if it requires us to spend time with you."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

~*~

Severus supposed that they ought to be grateful for the two days of grace they were given to relax and become accustomed to their new accommodations before the questions began. The house was reasonably pleasant. Their rooms were generously appointed. They had privacy and food and a measure of comfort. They had a wide selection of clothing to wear. Even Lucius had barely been able to find fault with anything, especially after Gravesend.

But they also had to deal with a bloody tenacious need-to-know-it-all who just didn't know when to stop. The fact that the sitting room had comfortable armchairs and sofas, bookshelves that held a wide range of Muggle and Wizarding books, and windows that looked out on a large and intriguing potions garden did nothing to alleviate the aggravation of having to deal with well-intentioned Gryffindors.

"Enough," Severus snarled. "It doesn't matter how many different ways you phrase the question, our answer will not change."

"But we need to know," Hermione said, then she frowned. "How can you _not_ remember what happened when you received the Dark Mark?"

"Perhaps because we were not permitted to remember," Lucius drawled. "I cannot explain it any other way."

Goyle, who had remained silent throughout the questioning, said, "It hurt worse'n Crucio. Didn't care about anything else, did I?"

"It still hurts sometimes," Pansy added, hugging her left arm to her stomach and curling deeper into her corner of the sofa and tucking the hem of her blue robes around her feet.

"Can I—" Potter began, hesitating before continuing, "Would you let me look at it?"

If he'd had his wand, Severus would have hexed Potter for making Parkinson cower like that, but then Lucius placed a hand on his arm and Severus calmed down and watched. To Severus's surprise, Potter didn't grab for Parkinson's arm, nor did Granger yammer on again about how vital it was to their research.

Instead, Potter smiled at Parkinson, dropped to his knees in front of her, and reached up to uncover his scar. "Vol..." Potter began, and then to Severus's amazement, considering Potter's prior insistence on using that name, corrected himself, "Riddle used to try and control me through this. He succeeded more than once, as Snape and Malfoy can tell you. And every time he tried, I thought he was going to break my head open."

When she didn't respond, he continued, "I still have nightmares sometimes, but they're nothing like they used to be. Not after I got him to kill the bit of himself that he left inside of my scar."

The stories about Potter dying and coming back to life suddenly made more sense to Severus. Not something special about Potter, at all; merely the death of a Horcrux and the survival of its host.

A tiny jerk of Lucius's hand on his arm pulled Severus out of his musings and made him pay attention to Parkinson and Potter again. While he was distracted, Parkinson had slid to the edge of the sofa and was running a finger over Potter's scar. Quite fascinating in a nauseating way, Severus thought, especially when one considered the way the elder Weasley boy was gripping the arms of his chair.

"You can hardly see it anymore, and it feels almost... dead," Parkinson said.

"I think it is," Potter agreed. "In a weird way. I can't feel anything around the scar, not since the last battle."

Then as they all watched with avid curiosity, she fumbled with the buttons on her cuff and rolled up the sleeve of her blouse, baring her left forearm. "Don't know what I was thinking," she muttered. "Ugly thing's impossible to cover up."

Potter was gentle; Severus would give him that. He didn't touch Parkinson's Dark Mark. He knelt there, cradling Parkinson's arm in one hand, his other hovering above the Mark. Then he closed his eyes and he _hummed_.

A whimper escaped from Parkinson as she sat there and just stared at Potter. Then the strange hiss-like hum changed and began to vibrate through Severus's forearm, sending an ache through into the bone. Lucius's grip on Severus's other arm tightened, but Severus couldn't take his eyes off Potter.

"Fuck," Goyle swore, grabbing at his own forearm. "What the hell are you doing, Potter?"

The vibration mounted and mounted until Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to kill Potter or bow before him. And then it stopped, releasing him abruptly.

Eyes wide, breathing heavily, Potter released Parkinson's arm. "Thank you," he said, his voice gentle, "I know that wasn't easy for you."

"Easy?" Severus snarled. "That was a small piece of agony. One I haven't felt since you killed the bastard."

"Oh. I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Potter's eyes grew wide, and he moved back to sit on the floor between Weasley's feet.

"Definitely connected." Granger's quill began scratching on parchment.

"That isn't a surprise, I hope," Lucius drawled. "Or we're all in far deeper trouble than I expected."

"Having a hypothesis confirmed is hardly a surprise," Granger replied. "In fact, if they hadn't been connected, we would have had to reconsider some of our tests."

Weasley, his hand on Potter's shoulder, spoke up before Severus could respond, "We needed to gauge the extent of the connection between your Marks. Although, we hadn't intended to do that quite so soon."

A shifting noise drew everyone's attention to Potter, who was looking discomfited. As he should, Severus thought, still fighting the urge to hex the insufferable brat. "They called to me," Potter admitted. "There's a..." he chewed on his lower lip, clearly forcing what little biological matter existed in between his ears to think, "...presence in the Marks. Not alive, not like my scar, but... something."

 _Something inside me!_ The thought was obscene. Severus clenched his hands into fists, gritted his teeth, and glared at his left forearm, resisting the urge to ask someone to cut it off, to hurt Potter for telling him this, for not letting him live in ignorance just a little longer.

Before anyone could say anything else, Granger said, "That's it, then. Whatever else we discover, those things come off. Bill, I need you to figure out how to get rid of them. Permanently."

"With pleasure," Weasley agreed.

"Harry," she continued, "would you mind going to get the Pensieves? We'll need to see their memories of how they got the Mark. Maybe what's missing will tell us something."

Potter scrambled to his feet and then paused. He glanced at Parkinson and Goyle, then asked Granger, "Do we have to give them their memories back when we're done?"

Clearly surprised, Granger considered for a moment, then smiled. "If they consent, the law allows us to store them. Or, if you'd prefer, you can destroy them. Either way, you won't have to remember the pain any longer."

For the first time, Severus gained a small appreciation for Potter and his crew. When Hermione dragged him off to the library and started floating large and ancient books in his direction, his appreciation grew.

~*~

 _Parkinson knelt between Crabbe and Goyle in the middle of the row of potential followers. Draco Malfoy stood off to one side, held in place by Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. Sweet-smelling smoke from a ritual fire swirled around the ceiling of the room._

 _"Unworthy," Voldemort hissed. His eyes flared red as he tossed the current supplicant towards a knot of his followers. He contemplated those kneeling before him, then crooked a bony finger at Parkinson. "You will be next. I trust you will not fail me."_

 _Trembling, Parkinson crawled the short distance to Voldemort's feet, bowed her head, and held out her bare arms. Reaching for her left arm, he gripped it so tightly that his long fingernails broke the skin. He hissed._

 _"Acceptable," Voldemort said. He ran a hand through Parkinson's hair, smiling when she shuddered. "You may be mine."_

 _At a wave of his wand, a small cauldron of dark ink came over and floated near his elbow. Bubbles continuously broke the surface of the liquid, spraying droplets that sank back down. Another wave of his wand, and he began to hiss in a rhythm that made everyone present sway. As Voldemort chanted, the cauldron upended, and boiling ink splashed onto Parkinson's skin._

 _Smoke rose from her arm. It twisted into a serpentine shape and began to weave in and out of her forearm, stitching the ink into her body._

 _Throwing her head back, Parkinson screamed and everything went black._

~*~

Parkinson and Goyle were huddled on the long sofa, being comforted by an unexpectedly gentle and caring Snape and Malfoy. Harry was curled up on the smaller sofa with Bill.

Hermione reviewed her notes and forced her mind away from Ron Weasley and self-pity. She didn't have time for anything like that, not if they were going to save these people. "Right," she said, raising her voice enough to gain their attention. "Do you have enough to begin the tests? Harry? Bill?"

Straightening up and moving away from Bill, Harry said, "They're different. The spell he used on Malfoy and Snape isn't quite the same as the one he used on Parkinson and Goyle."

"Different how?" Hermione frowned. They'd sounded the same to her, but she wasn't a Parselmouth.

"I need to watch them again to be sure." Harry glanced over at the others. "But I can do that by myself and have an answer for you tonight."

Giving him a sharp nod, Hermione turned her attention to Malfoy and Snape. "Could this be a matter of ranking among the Death Eaters? Or was there a significant change between his initiations before and after his resurrection?"

Snape and Malfoy exchanged a look that she couldn't decipher. Then Malfoy said, in a condescending tone, "Of course there were ranks. A Dark Mark merely guaranteed a place as one of the Dark Lord's followers. It was not an automatic entrée into his innermost circle of advisors. One had to... _earn_ that."

Telling herself that she really didn't want to know how such a position was earned, Hermione asked, "So, the difference in the spell wouldn't have been—"

"Stop that!" Snape yelled at Harry, who'd started humming again. "Have you no consideration at all?"

"I thought you wanted him to solve this?" Bill growled. "How's he supposed to do that without making those noises?"

"I don't care how he does it, as long as he stops bloody humming." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Everything all right in there?" Calpurnia Jones, one of the Aurors on duty, poked her head into the room. She was the oldest of the Aurors assigned to guard them. Older than Lucius Malfoy, Hermione guessed. Jones's sandy-brown hair was liberally streaked with grey and always done up in two long plaits that she wound around her head.

"It's fine," Hermione assured her. "Just a little disagreement about how we should proceed."

"Okay. We'll be out here if you need us," Jones said, nodding in acknowledgement and closing the door behind her.

"It burned," Parkinson said into the resulting silence. "It felt like he was doing it all over again."

The smile on Harry's face was blinding. "Great," he crowed. "It's the same spell, then."

~*~

Later, while everyone else was otherwise distracted, Severus returned to the sitting room. He stood in front of the French doors, hands clasped behind his back. A storm had come in while they ate. Outside, sheets of rain dashed against the glass, and high winds whipped leaves and branches off the trees. He avoided looking at himself in the wavering reflection of the room, focussing instead on the dry fountain and the hunch-backed violinist in the centre.

He couldn't shake the fear he'd felt upon learning that the Dark Lord had been able to control him through the Dark Mark. Qualms and suspicions that Severus had believed to be gone forever whirled through his mind. Had he known Severus was a traitor? Had he somehow been responsible for Severus going to Dumbledore? Had he been behind—

A noise interrupted Severus's thoughts, and he stilled. Through the reflection in the window, he saw the door open and close, and watched Lucius walk over to stand beside him.

After a few seconds of silence, Lucius murmured, "We did the best we could."

"Hardly."

Lucius turned and forced Severus to look at him. "We were little more than children when we took the Mark, Severus, caught in the machinations of adults. We did the best we could."

"And that excuses everything?"

"No," Lucius allowed, "but we cannot go back and undo any of it. We can only live with the consequences of our actions."

"Does it not bother you?" For some reason, Severus found the idea disturbing.

"Some of it, more than even you can imagine." Clearly agitated, Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "We've all lost so much. Narcissa is remarried. Draco... for the sake of our family name, he should not acknowledge me, even if this wild Snidget chase leads to my release. And yet, I cannot avoid hoping that, despite what I put him through, he will choose me over everything I raised him to believe."

"He was not permitted the Dark Mark," Severus said, intending to reassure him.

"And thus my abject failure becomes my son's saving grace."

The bitterness and self-hatred in Lucius's voice compelled Severus to open his arms and offer what comfort he could. They held each other and then kissed. Gentle kisses at first, deepening, moving them closer and closer, until their bodies were pressed against each other. Severus released a sigh into Lucius's mouth and allowed himself to relax.

~*~

Hermione closed the door quietly and leant against the wall in the hallway. She pressed a hand flat on her stomach and pressed hard, trying to still the trembling that seemed to have gripped her.

Seeing them like that, the emotions between them revealed instead of hidden, Hermione felt a yearning that she'd never known when she'd seen her friends kissing.

~*~

The first test took place two days after they'd watched the Marking ceremonies. Over Hermione's objections at being excluded, Harry and Bill had announced that everyone who wasn't part of the test should stay in the main house. Then, they'd taken Snape to the stone building at the back of the property that had once housed stables. Their only concession had been to ensure Hermione had access through the wards.

Taking her books and notes into the sitting room, Hermione seated herself at a small desk where she could keep an eye on the others, on the stables and on the Unspeakables who were lounging on a bench outside.

Malfoy was reading a biography of Gellert Grindelwald, affecting unconcern despite moving his armchair so that it faced the windows and gave him a view of the stables. He turned pages at regular intervals, but Hermione was sure that all of his attention was focused on Snape.

On the other side of the room, sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table where they couldn't even see the windows, Parkinson and Goyle were engrossed in a game of Wizarding chess.

It had been quiet, almost peaceful, until Parkinson moaned in pain. Goyle moved faster than Hermione would have believed possible. By the time Hermione had stood up, he was on the other side of the table, rocking Parkinson in his arms. Both of them were clutching their left forearms.

Hermione moved towards them, but Malfoy prevented her. The strain in his voice made it clear that he was in as much pain as he ground out, "Leave them. We need to go to Severus and your friends."

They ran through the garden. The Unspeakables who were their current guards got up and followed as they raced past. When they reached the stables, Malfoy seized Hermione's arm, and she dragged him through Bill's wards, leaving the Unspeakables on the other side. He pulled her to a stop in front of the side door.

"We don't know what's on the other side," Malfoy whispered. "Get your wand out and be ready to stun anyone. Even your friends."

Giving him a sharp nod, Hermione ignored her pounding heart and took a firm grasp on her wand. She went to the hinged side of the door and cast _Alohomora_. The door creaked open.

Inside, Harry and Snape were crouched on the floor. Bill stood behind Harry, who was holding Snape's arm and hissing. The wall above them was smudged in the vague shape of the Dark Mark.

When Hermione and Malfoy stepped into the room, the echo of their shoes hitting the stone floor bounced off the walls. Harry and Snape paid them no attention. Bill put a finger to his lips and gestured to them to come closer.

Malfoy moved rapidly, taking up a position at Snape's back. Hermione started to follow him, only to be stopped by Bill and motioned to stand between them on the side furthest from the door.

"Don't touch them," Bill murmured.

As Hermione watched, the tone of Harry's hissing changed and he released Snape's arm. Snape shifted position and stood up. Facing Harry, Snape crossed his arms over his chest and bowed deeply, bending at the waist, his hair touching the floor.

Then Harry expelled one short, sharp syllable, and a sense of release snapped through the room.

Snape straightened up, fury visible in this eyes. He would have lunged for Harry if Malfoy hadn't restrained him. "Did it feel good, Potter? Forcing your nasty professor to kowtow to you."

"Actually, it gave me one hell of a headache," Harry said, allowing Bill to help him to his feet. He wobbled, and Bill wrapped his arms around him and supported him.

Not wanting to look at either couple, Hermione examined their surroundings. Everything seemed the same until she saw the wall behind her. The bare wall. "The mark on the wall, it's gone," she exclaimed.

"It's supposed to be," Harry said, leaning his back against Bill's chest. "I used Snape's Dark Mark to raise it, and it was supposed to disappear when I released him." He massaged his temples. "Snape, if it helps, I didn't get any pleasure out of doing that. I just thought that, if I didn't make you do something like that, something you'd never consider doing yourself, you might not believe I'd coerced you into it."

"You couldn't have made me dance a jig, or cluck like a chicken?" Snape snarled. "Oh no, that's not good enough for the great Harry Potter, is it? Not when you've been missing the adulation of the masses."

"No," Harry snapped, before Snape could continue. "I couldn't have done either of those things. The spell isn't like that. It's about worship and adoration and making you do things that would further the cause of wizards like Riddle. Neither of those things you mentioned serve a purpose, and I didn't particularly want to get you to hurt Bill."

"The Dark Lord would have me on my knees, crawling towards him," Malfoy said into the silence. "Afterwards, I couldn't understand how I could possibly have _wanted_ to do that. But, at the time, it felt perfectly natural."

Grateful at his attempt to defuse the situation, Hermione said, "I... can't imagine you doing that. Except for that time you brawled with Arthur Weasley in Flourish and Blotts, you always seemed so self-possessed."

Malfoy groaned. "Please don't remind me. I would dearly like to be able to forget about that day. I still don't know what possessed me to act in such a manner."

"The Dark Lord," Snape said. "Albus told me that the diary was a Horcrux. That a teenage Tom Riddle had given it a piece of his soul."

"Controlled by a teenager? Couldn't you have come up with a less embarrassing answer? I'll never live it down if that gets out." Malfoy considered Harry, his gaze turning speculative, then turned to Hermione. "You'll need to be careful when you present this. There are a lot of frightened witches and wizards on the Wizengamot."

"I will be." A leaden ball formed in the pit of Hermione's stomach as she realised the full extent of what Malfoy was implying, what the Wizengamot would think when they saw Harry controlling Death Eaters. How had she not seen that possibility?

"You'll figure it out, the three of you," Bill said, "while Harry and I finish the testing with Parkinson and Goyle. Because, whatever happens, I'll not risk Harry. He shouldn't have to give up his own freedom to earn theirs."

"Hey," Harry protested. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"No," Hermione said.

~*~

"Do you want her?"

Lucius's question surprised Severus enough that he stilled for a moment before opening the wardrobe. "Pardon?"

"Do you want her?" Lucius came up behind Severus, wrapped his arms around Severus's waist, and pressed his lips against the soft skin below Severus's ear. "I saw you looking at her this afternoon in the stables. She's grown into quite a woman. Capable of being forceful when the situation demands it, and her mind is exceptional. The things she knows and can intuit from that knowledge. I know what that level of intelligence does to you."

"Do you really?" Severus drawled. "I can't imagine how you found that out."

"To invent the Dolorus curse, I first calculated the arithmantic root of the Cruciatus curse and its runic equivalent. Next I added the arithmantic value of the rune teiwaz, as inflected by the meaning _to wound_ , and subtracted for algiz, ensuring its reversal and the removal of protection. In addition, th..."

Severus moaned and twisted his hips, pushing his arse back and spreading his legs. Lucius's slippery cock pressed at his cleft and then slid between Severus's thighs until the head rested against his sac. Lucius rocked and his cock moved back and forth, the foreskin and glans prodding the sensitive skin covering Severus's bollocks. In response, Severus tightened his thigh and arse muscles, revelling in the shiver that went through Lucius.

Lucius stumbled over his words before continuing, "...the precise determination of wand movements required multiple experiments to ensure the correct coloration of the spell-light. A graceful, downward swish emphasised by rapid upward flick of the wrist and a forward stabbing motion proved insufficient..."

His hand slick with lube, Lucius grasped Severus's cock and duplicated each movement he described testing, until Severus could no longer hear the words. His world narrowed down to the cadence of Lucius's voice, the squeeze and twist and rub of Lucius's hand on his cock, the grind of Lucius's hips and cock into his arse.

His orgasm came with the triumph of Lucius's discovery. As it pulsed through him, Severus pushed back against, rhythmically pressing and releasing his thighs around Lucius's cocok. Lucius clutched Severus's hips, thrust a few times and then groaned his own release.

After a silken-soft Cleansing spell had gently cleaned and dried Severus's skin, Lucius asked again, "Shall we pursue Ms Granger?"

"Yes," Severus agreed. Then he turned around, slid his hands into Lucius's hair, and kissed him.

~*~

Hermione walked along the hallway from her room to the one that Harry and Bill were sharing. The things she'd seen in the stables earlier that afternoon still haunted her. That Harry would attempt to raise a Dark Mark, would force Snape to bow _that way_ to him — it didn't make any sense. Not for Harry.

Stopping outside their room, she rapped on the partly open door. "Harry? You in there?"

When he didn't answer, she tried again. After a few seconds, she started to move away, only to stop when she heard a noise. She debated going downstairs and forgetting everything, but she couldn't. She had to know.

Their room was as plain as hers. The curtains shimmered with the same wards. Even the furniture looked the same, although the bed was larger and there were two bedside tables and two miniscule wardrobes.

Harry was leaning on the wall near the window, arms folded over his chest, staring at the ceiling. What really worried her, though, was the fact that he was wearing an old, stretched-out, moth-eaten, oversized Weasley jumper with a crooked H.

"Harry?" Hermione ventured closer. "I knocked."

"I heard." His eyes flicked to her and returned to the ceiling.

"Are you all right?"

"I..." Harry bit his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know."

An ache in her heart, Hermione went over to him and pulled her into his arms. He was stiff for a moment, but then wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. Eventually, she said, "Tell me."

He was silent for a while, almost long enough to convince her that he wasn't going to talk to her, but then he whispered, "I liked it."

The images rose up in her mind again, and Hermione's heart sank. She held him closer and whispered back, "And?"

The noise he made was bitter, grating, derisive. "And I'm fucked. I raised the Dark Mark; something only a Death Eater or a Dark Lord can do. I made a goddamn Death Eater bow to me. And I didn't break a sweat. It was easy, Hermione. So fucking easy. I didn't even need my wand. Just a few words of Parseltongue and the desire to make it happen."

Thinking furiously, Hermione stroked his hair and tried to comfort him. There was only one real question and she had to ask it. "Do you want to do it again? I know you can, but is it what you want?"

She could feel the movement of his Adam's apple against her shoulder as he swallowed. This time his voice was barely even a whisper. "No. I can't. Please, don't let me."

"Honestly, Harry, you should know me better than that by now." Hermione blinked back tears and held on to him. "We'll find a way. I promise."

~*~

"No success at all?" Kingsley asked.

"The results were... hopeful," Hermione said, hoping that the distortion caused by the flames hid the flush that went through her at the lie. "This afternoon's was only the first test, though. We've got several more tests to run, and three more test subjects. Test subjects who weren't spies."

Kingsley stroked a hand across his jaw. "Severus Snape is a particularly strong-willed man. He deceived Voldemort for many years."

"Exactly," Hermione said, relieved that he'd hadn't pushed. "We'll have a better idea of how his Occlumency abilities impact the spell after the next set of tests."

Giving her a nod of agreement, Kingsley said, "Do be careful. I'm sure you've all worked out how this could backfire. There have been a few disturbing comments amongst the few who know of what you're attempting."

"Of course, sir. We're working on a plan that we hope will avoid the worst case scenario."

"See that you do. Voldemort has cost the Wizarding world more than enough. I'd hate to see us lose someone else we care about."

"I won't allow that to happen."

"Good," Kingsley said. "I'll expect your report at the same time tomorrow, then. In the meantime, I'll handle the complaints from your guards and remind them that they're there to ensure your safety, not to interfere with the tests."

Dismissed, Hermione backed out of the Floo just as the connection was cut. She knelt in front of the hearth, wafting a Cleansing charm over her clothes and thinking about what Kingsley had implied.

"Well done, Miss Granger."

Startled to discover that she wasn't alone, Hermione swung around to face Malfoy who was perched on the arm of the chair where Snape was sitting. She asked, "How did you get in here?"

"Our oh-so-capable guards are in the kitchen, stuffing their faces," Malfoy said, with a smirk. "They were utterly disinterested in where we were taking our tea."

"Cup?" Snape offered.

"I'd love one, thanks." Hermione shifted towards the table, stopping dead when Snape produced a wand and directed the teapot to fill three cups.

"A splash of milk and one sugar, if I remember correctly."

"You're not supposed to be able to do that," Hermione blurted out, then more reasonably asked, "Where did you get that wand?"

"Same place as you obtained yours, I expect. From Ollivander's," Snape said, placing a chocolate digestive on the saucer and then floating the cup over to her.

Settled on the floor in front of one of the chairs, she curled her legs beneath her before plucking her cup out of the air. She would appear calm, she decided, despite her inner turmoil and disturbing lack of fear. "That's not what I asked."

"It's precisely what you asked," Malfoy pointed out. "Although, admittedly not what you desired to learn."

"And precision is of the utmost importance," Snape added. "In life, as well as potions."

Hermione smiled and took a bite of her biscuit. When her mouth was empty, she asked, "So, what's the purpose of this display? You didn't have to let me know that you had a wand."

"It seemed," Snape glanced at Malfoy before continuing, "appropriate. You have a reasonably level head, and we presumed you'd wish to know that we are capable of defending ourselves if necessary."

"Both of you?" Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"I'd hardly leave myself defenceless under these circumstances." Malfoy sniffed.

"I didn't really think about it, but clearly I should have," she admitted. "Do the others know?"

Again, Snape and Malfoy exchanged undecipherable looks that she assumed held some significance to them. Then Snape said, "If Parkinson and Goyle do not, then my training has been wasted. As for Weasley and Potter, I hope they are not so naïve as to believe we would be willing to place our lives in the hands of the Ministry without any way to defend ourselves."

"Well, when you put it that way." Hermione snickered and reached for another biscuit.

They talked until the teapot was empty and all the biscuits had been eaten. Hermione found herself more intrigued and amused than she'd ever believed possible in the presence of these two men. They were exactly the same as they'd been when they were the bogeymen of her childhood, but she was older and found herself appreciating both their wit and the aura of danger that surrounded them.

At the end, after the tea things had been sent back to the kitchen and Snape's wand had been returned to its hiding place, she rose to her feet. Before she could change her mind, she suggested, "It feels a bit silly under the circumstances to call each other by our surnames." She held out her hand. "I'm Hermione."

There was a pause, and another exchange of glances before Snape said, "Severus."

"And Lucius."

They each, in turn, took her hand. Severus shook it firmly. Lucius raised it to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

She was alone in the room with a smile on her lips and the hope that, when she talked to them all the next day, they'd be willing to help her save Harry.

~*~

"Potter needs watching," Severus said, reaching over to straighten the collar of Lucius's dark blue robes.

"Hmmm." Lucius finished brushing his hair, then replaced the hairbrush on their dresser and handed the comb to Severus. "He did seem rather disturbed by how much he enjoyed forcing that obeisance from you, poor man. If he were to become a Dark Lord, he'd need a considerable amount of training."

"Talk like that will get you in trouble, you know. People might think you were serious." Severus dragged the comb through his hair, yanking it through a tangle.

"They might, yes," Lucius agreed, taking the comb out of Severus's hands and working it through his hair. "Humourless bastards, the lot of them."

Severus snorted, and Lucius rapped the comb on the crown of his head before continuing, "I hardly think we need to worry, however. He clearly has no desire to better his station in life. If he had, Hermione wouldn't have lied so admirably to the Minister."

"True," Severus mused. "She was quite impressive. Kingsley didn't suspect a thing. She'll make an effective Minister one day."

"One for the history books, I suspect." Lucius tossed the comb towards the dresser. "You need a haircut."

"Hardly my top priority at the moment, but I'll keep it in mind."

"See that you do." Lucius conjured a thin silk cord the exact colour of his robes. Then, with a twirl of his wand, the cord gathered his hair into a loose tail and tied itself into a complicated knot. "Shall we go? I'm sure Hermione is eager to share her ideas for saving Potter and us."

Severus walked towards the door only to pause with his hand on the knob and glance back at Lucius. "Potter's strength is impressive. Unlike the Dark Lord, I couldn't resist him."

"Lucky for us that he has his conscience, Bill, and Hermione to restrain him, isn't it?" Lucius smiled. "Now, do open the door. I'm sure Gregory's on the verge of knocking it down. And I, for one, do not want to be the one responsible for him being late for his breakfast."

With a nod of his head to show how much he appreciated Lucius's attempt to take his mind off the potential disaster of being dependent upon Harry Potter and his morals, Severus opened the door and went to discover which disaster they were expected to help avert that day.

~*~

"This, right here," Severus announced, tapping a finger on the open page of the book in front of him. "This should provide the binding we need."

Hermione crowded closer on one side; Lucius pushed Severus's arm out of the way, so he could see. Potter attempted to read upside-down from his seat across the table. Weasley, sitting next to Potter, reached out and turned the book so they could all see it.

"Combining the Unbreakable vow with _Adstringo_." Hermione hummed as she leant over Severus's arm, her body warm against his. "That might work."

"This notation here suggests a better solution," Weasley said. "Using either the _Constringo_ or the _Praestringo_ variant."

Lucius said, " _Praestringo_ would add more power to the spell without the potential obligations that can be a side effect of _Adstringo_."

"If we combine that with the _Redimio_ Severus recommended, Harry should be safe," Hermione suggested.

There was a moment of charged silence when Hermione used Severus's name, during which Potter and Weasley stared at her, but then Potter nodded and asked, "So, you'll bind my ability to speak Parseltongue? Or merely my ability to impact the Dark Mark?"

"We should be able to leave you the ability to speak the language and simply restrict you from using it to work magic." Hermione grinned at him. "I'd hate to leave you friendless. No snakes to keep you warm at night."

"Doesn't need snakes," Weasley muttered. "He's got me."

"That's a repulsive image I didn't need right before lunch." Severus sneered.

There was another moment of silence and then Weasley began to laugh. "My pleasure, Snape. I'm always happy to feed your fantasies."

Severus glared at him, refusing to dignify that with an answer, and shifted a little closer to Hermione. She just snickered and patted his shoulder. Then she Summoned another book, flipped it to the chapter on power-binding spells, Lucius reached for parchment and a quill, and their spell-crafting began in earnest.

~*~

Watching Bill, Severus, and Lucius craft a spell capable of binding only one facet of Harry's powers while leaving the rest intact made Hermione realise how much she still had to learn. And she would learn it all and more — after they'd saved Harry, Severus, Lucius, Goyle, and Parkinson.

In the meantime, however, she and Harry were nothing more than distractions.

She motioned to Harry, and they both left the room quietly.

"Got tired of feeling useless?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Not useless exactly," Hermione said, frowning. "I just didn't feel like being hexed by Severus because I asked for another explanation."

"He was getting a bit short-tempered. Almost like old times."

"Can't say I've missed them."

"Me either," Harry agreed. "Shall we go and see if we can annoy Goyle and Parkinson instead? At least they can't hex us, even if they want to."

Hermione dredged up a smile. "All right, and I promise not to worry about the fact that this is one of your plans."

"Hey," Harry protested. "My plans work sometimes. The one that ended the war was particularly good, even if I do say so myself."

"Plan? You don't honestly think you can talk me into believing that you planned that, do you?"

"Stranger things have been known to happen."

"And in our lives," Hermione said, "but none of them have been quite that unbelievable."

Harry swayed sideways, nudging her shoulder, and Hermione nudged his in return.

They walked down the hall and towards the sitting room, where Goyle was sprawled on the couch with Parkinson curled up next to him. They looked up from the large book in Goyle's lap when Hermione and Harry entered.

Goyle grunted a hello, and Parkinson gave them a timid nod.

"What've you got?" Harry asked and went over to flop on the floor at Goyle's feet.

"It's that book on magical tattoos you had out the other day," Parkinson said. "We were curious."

"And?" Hermione asked, perching on the coffee table so she could see the book.

"Something that might be useful," Goyle said, looking at Parkinson.

With his encouragement, she took the book and flipped back a couple of pages. "Did you know that in the middle ages there was a Siberian sect that used tattoos in a magic binding ritual? Not like our Dark Marks, but to bind the power of a wizard or witch who'd been convicted of using magic to prey on others?"

Jealousy spiked in Hermione, but she squashed it rapidly. Helping Harry was more important than who found which piece of information. "Combining the spell with a tattoo might give it more power."

"I want a nice tat," Harry commented. "Something tasteful, like a phoenix or a lion or even a basilisk maybe? Not one of those ugly ones." He indicated a picture of a man's wrist and the bulbous, warty toad tattoos that circled it.

"A snake might be best, given what you're trying to bind," Parkinson suggested.

Goyle snorted. "Snake with a ball gag, more like."

While they sniggered, Hermione pursed her lips and bent closer to the book. "That actually makes sense. Not the ball gag—" they all sniggered again "—but using a snake to bind Parseltongue. A version of Ouroboros might work. The snake swallowing its own tail would effectively prevent it from hissing. And there's that variant that's used as a purifying sigil in alchemy."

"Err... Hermione?" Harry said. "You know you've lost us, yeah?"

"What?" Hermione glanced up.

"Just, you know, you keep on going. Unless you want to come to the kitchen with us, that is."

"Kitchen?" Hermione scanned the page. Surely there'd been a reference to the ritual that went with the tattoos.

Harry cleared his throat. "It's just that it's lunch time, and the elves promised us tomato soup and toasted cheese. It's Goy... Greg's favourite."

The change in name dragged Hermione's attention away from the page. The look of sheer determination on Harry's face and the surprise on the others' made her grin. "I'll just be a few minutes. You and... Greg and Pansy should save me a seat, though."

As they all but ran out the door, she called after them, "And make sure there's some soup left for me. It's my favourite, too."

First names. Hermione smiled. She'd have to make sure that Harry and Bill were on a first name basis with Severus and Lucius as well.

~*~

Hermione spent the next three days working with Severus, Lucius, and Bill to perfect the spell and design the tattoo that would hold it. Each morning, to distract their guards, Harry would take Greg and Pansy out to the stables. In the afternoons, Bill and either Severus or Lucius would join them for a couple of hours. Ostensibly, these trips were to test their Dark Marks. In reality, the mornings were spent playing game after game of Wizarding Chess and Exploding Snap, and the afternoons were devoted to testing the current draft of the spell on Harry.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, the spell prevented Harry from casting _Morsmordre Hominis_ on any of them even though he could still speak in Parseltongue. They repeated the test three times, alternating between casting their currently unnamed spell and allowing Harry to work without it.

Hermione was so relieved when the spell passed the third test cycle and Lucius was able to refuse to kneel to her — Harry claimed he was bored of having them bow and scrape before him — that she almost flung her arms around Lucius and kissed him.

They celebrated with an extra serving of pudding at dinner and a bottle of elf-made wine that Bill and Harry brought down from their room. After the meal, when the others headed into the sitting room to have their coffee and tea, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her into the library.

Shutting the door behind him, Harry turned to her and grinned. "They were flirting with you."

"What?"

"Severus and Lucius. All that—" Harry fluttered his hands "—polite conversation and implied compliments and veiled questions about the future, they were flirting with you."

Hermione could feel the heat steal through her. She'd suspected as much, hugged that belief to her, as she watched them touch each other and wished that she could do the same. But to have Harry confirm it, to know that he'd seen it, too — which meant, she was sure, that the others had as well — left her speechless.

"Well," Harry finally said, when she didn't respond. "Do you want them? Or shall Bill and I warn them off? Even without the Parseltongue, I can definitely swing enough magical muscle around to dent them."

The image of Harry standing up before Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, who were both taller and older than him, and threatening them on her behalf was just too much. To Hermione's chagrin, she giggled.

"I'm guessing that means you don't want me to defend your virtue, huh?" Harry would have looked disappointed, if his eyes hadn't been glinting with amusement. "Damn. You know what that means, don't you?"

She shook her head.

"Bill and I will have to clean up the house every time we invite you and yours to dinner."

Hermione laughed. "You're not expecting me to apologise for making your life hell, are you?"

"Not if they make you happy," Harry said. "Of course, if they blow you off in favour of an over-endowed, brainless twit like Ron did, I'll thump them and make them apologise, same as I did him."

"And, if you do that, I'll be forced to hex you until you admit that I'm capable of taking care of myself. Just as I did when you thumped Ron."

Laughing, Harry hugged her and said, "Be happy, all right? You need someone who brings out the best in you, instead of the worst like you and Ron. And if that means those two, I'll welcome them into the family and make sure everyone else does, too." Then, before she could thank him, he winked at her. "All you have to do in return is make sure I have a ringside seat for when Lucius tells Draco."

"Bastard." Hermione slapped him on the arse. "Just when I thought you were turning nice on me."

"Nice is boring. I'm sure your Slytherins will tell you that." Harry opened the door. "Now come on. I want to watch them flirt some more. It's fun."

Following Harry into the sitting room to join the others, Hermione was instantly aware of the way that Severus and Lucius looked at her, the way she wanted to look at them. Filing that knowledge away as something to think about later, she poured herself a cup of tea, splashed in some milk, and joined in the conversation.

~*~

The next morning, fulfilling a promise Bill had made to Kingsley when he'd done the check in the previous night, Hermione sat at a desk in the library. She had a sheet of CommPaper in front of her and a quill in her hand, but she couldn't work out how to tell him about their success.

The problem with CommPaper was that everything she wrote would automatically appear on Kingsley's scroll as soon as he tapped it with his wand and keyed in his password. There was no way to erase anything. If she changed her mind and crossed something out, he'd see the words with a line through them. And, she knew from personal experience, he'd find some way to read them. The only consolation was that no one would be able to read them except him.

Brushing the feathered end of the quill against her lips and staring at the CommPaper, Hermione was startled when the library door opened.

"Ms Granger?" Calpurnia Jones sounded hesitant, although she shut the door firmly behind her and walked over to where Hermione was sitting.

"Auror Jones?"

"If you have a way to contact the Minister," Jones paused, then squared her shoulders and continued, "I suggest that you do so as soon as possible."

"I was about to do just that," Hermione said. When Jones started to step back, Hermione asked, "Is there any particular reason why it's so important?"

"The reason doesn't really matter, as long as you do it." Jones plucked an imaginary piece of lint off the sleeve that covered her wand holster and gestured to the door. "I should go, before Unspeakable Tamben notices that I'm not doing my rounds outside."

Giving in to her curiosity, Hermione insisted, "What happened? Did Tamben say something?"

Another hesitation, and Hermione was sure she could get the answer. "If you don't tell me, I shall be forced to let the Minister know that you recommended I write to him but didn't give me an explanation. Wouldn't you prefer to tell me than Head Auror Robards?"

"You're not the least bit scary, you know," Jones said with a smile. "I've run into worse than you in the bright and cheerful alleys off Diagon."

"I'm sure you have. Then again, I'm sure none of them spent seven years fighting Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the rest studying law."

"You make a good point." Jones played with the fabric over her wand holster again, frowning as she looked down and realised what she was doing. "It was Tamben. I overheard him on his daily Floo call. He was telling Croaker that he thinks you're all hiding something. Apparently, he eavesdropped on your so-called tests yesterday morning and all he heard was Potter and the two youngest prisoners playing a card game."

"I see." Hermione's pulse sped up, and her mind began considering and discarding different ways of handling this new problem. "Anything else I need to know about?"

"Well, if I were Croaker, I'd be arranging for an official visit sooner rather than later. And I did get word that my day off was cancelled, and we're all to be on duty tomorrow."

"How very predictable," Hermione said.

"Isn't it just?" At that, Jones let herself out.

Looking down at her CommPaper, Hermione smiled and wrote:

>   
> _Success! We've even solved the minor glitch we discovered along the way.  
>  Can you make time for a visit tomorrow afternoon?  
> Hermione_   
> 

She put down the quill, picked up her wand, and tapped the seal at the bottom of the CommPaper, repeating her password. As she watched, the ink faded and her note was sent to Kingsley's CommPaper.

~*~

A twist of his wand inside its hiding place provided a space for Severus to slip into the room without disturbing the Distraction and Muffling charms and wards. He was a few minutes late for what had become a nightly get-together. One that Hermione had decided to use to firm up their plans for Kingsley's visit the next day.

He and Lucius had done their best. They were reasonably sure that Hermione knew of their intentions, but they were not completely sure of hers. Therefore, he was late, and Lucius had been early; and they were hoping to find seating that allowed them to be in closer proximity than had been possible earlier.

"—but that doesn't make any sense, " Harry snapped.

Stopping just inside the door, Severus raised an eyebrow at Lucius, who shook his head minutely. Nothing to worry about, then, Severus thought. He suppressed a smirk when he surveyed the room. Greg and Pansy were in the armchairs. Bill and Harry sitting close together on the smaller sofa. And Lucius was sitting at the opposite end of the long sofa from Hermione, with sufficient room for another person between them. Perfect.

"There are other ways to persuade the Wizengamot," Bill reassured Harry, reaching over and gently squeezing Harry's knee. "We don't need to put you in danger by leaving your magic unbound so you can give them a Krup and Kneazle show."

When Harry continued to look mulish, Severus added, "The world will not come to a screeching halt if you are not the centre of attention, Harry. Pensieve evidence offered voluntarily and taken by an Auror or Wizengamot official is perfectly acceptable in a Wizarding court of law."

Harry protested, "I just don't want you to end up back in that prison, because protecting me made it impossible for me to prove that you were coerced."

"Not going to happen," Greg rumbled. "Not if the Minister himself gets an eyeful."

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the Hufflepuffian sentiment. He'd never understood what had made the Hat decide that boy was a Slytherin.

"And we're going to make sure that happens," Hermione said. "Kingsley is bringing Robards and Croaker with him tomorrow morning. So, no matter what Tamben is up to, we'll be able to nip it in the bud. After all," she smiled at everyone, "we have some of the best Slytherin minds on our side."

"Some of the best?" Lucius snorted. "I do believe we've been damned with faint praise."

The laughter broke the tension that had been building in the room, and Severus took advantage of the sudden relaxation to move across the room and sit down between Hermione and Lucius. He spread his legs just enough to ensure that his thigh touched Lucius's, and that he was almost, but not quite, touching Hermione's bare feet. That she didn't move away or do anything to put more distance between them was very interesting.

"What is the plan, then? Oh, great scheming ones." Harry made a mock bow in their direction.

"We go free, you go to prison?" Severus suggested, and then grunted when Hermione kicked him.

"Don't even think about complaining," she said. "You earned that."

Before Severus could reconsider his agreement to sit next to her, she continued, "The plan is for Harry to demonstrate the _Imperius_ -like effects of the Dark Mark when controlled by a Parselmouth. Then, when Kingsley has stopped the rest of them from panicking, we'll describe the ritual to bind your magic."

"To which you _will_ submit," Severus added.

"Right then and there, before the Minister and his witnesses," Lucius pointed out.

Before Harry could put words to whatever banal fears were creating that feral look in his eyes, Bill said, "And _I'll_ cast the binding spell."

Harry's relief would have been amusing, if Severus hadn't so completely understood that level of paranoia. He really did miss being able to make Harry Potter's life miserable.

Pansy cleared her throat and said, "Just one question. If we can bind Harry's Parseltongue magic, is there any way to deactivate the magic in our Marks? Or," she sounded hopeful, "erase them altogether?"

Surprised by the idea — one he hadn't allowed himself to consider in more than two decades — Severus exchanged a glance with Lucius.

"There has to be a way to do that," Bill said. "We can always work on it after this is all over."

Before anyone could suggest that it might be a moot point, Harry stood up. "And on that note, I need a drink. Anyone else?"

Severus spent most of the next couple of hours drinking whisky, talking about inanities, and playing Wizarding Chess. It was during a game with Bill that Severus felt Hermione's foot slide along his thigh. Just as he was about to allow himself to react, her toes dug into the muscle and she got up and went over to talk with Pansy.

Still, he thought as he attempted to will down his erection and focus on his grumbling chess pieces, the touch had felt like an expression of interest.

~*~

Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped out of the Floo in a flurry of Unspeakables, Aurors, and soot. None of the soot appeared to have attached itself to Kingsley or his clothes.

While the Aurors and Unspeakables dusted themselves off, Kingsley greeted Hermione, Bill, and Harry with careful handshakes and the smile that he only ever shared with those he trusted. That curving of his lips eased at least some of Hermione's fears.

"The others?" Kingsley inquired.

"In the stables, being watched by Auror Jones and Unspeakable Tamben," Hermione answered, responding to the tilt of Kingsley's head with a small nod.

"I wouldn't mind a chance to talk with my Unspeakables before we get started," Croaker said.

"You'll have all the time in the world to debrief them afterwards. My time, however, is limited." Kingsley started for the door. "Granger, Potter, Weasley, you can explain what you've found as we walk."

As they'd agreed, Hermione moved to one side of Kingsley, and Bill and Harry took up a position on his other side. Croaker and Robards and their Unspeakables and Aurors were forced to trail along behind.

At Kingsley's gesture, Hermione explained how they'd proven that the Dark Mark could be controlled. When she'd finished the brief overview they'd discussed, Robards cleared his throat. But before he could interrupt, Bill started a talk about _Morsmordre Hominis_ from a curse-breaker's perspective with Harry breaking in now and again to add the anecdotes they'd agreed he should share.

By the time they arrived at the stables, Hermione was hard-pressed not to turn around and grin gleefully at Croaker and Robards. Just that brief walk had been enough to erase most of her remaining doubts. She was starting to believe that they not only _could_ do this, but that they _would_.

~*~

Inside the stables, Severus leant against the back wall with his arms folded across his chest and kept his eyes on Jones and Tamben. Jones was relaxed — for an Auror on duty — but Tamben looked as if he was about ready to jump out of his skin every time Lucius moved or Pansy shifted in her seat. Something they did far more often than was normal. For the sheer pleasure of watching Tamben flinch, Severus was sure.

Rolling his shoulders, Severus resisted the urge to rub his back against the edge of the wooden pillar behind him. For this test, he'd agreed to forego the comfort and protection of his usual robes and wear a set of Bill's duelling robes that provided fewer obvious places for concealment. Harry had spelled the robes to fit, but they itched in awkward places. Severus was fully aware that the itching was all in his imagination, as they hadn't done so until he'd heard Kingsley's voice outside, but that didn't seem to stop him from wanting to scratch.

Still, focusing on not scratching was better than worrying about whether Harry would give into the urge to make him do something utterly humiliating in front of a man Severus had once considered a friend and a pair of men whom Severus had always considered to be enemies.

"Stop fretting. It's not a good look on you." Lucius came over and stood next to him.

"I was not fretting."

Lucius sniffed. "In that case, I advise you to stop jerking your left thumb against the inside of your right elbow. Someone who doesn't know you might think you're about to go into fits."

Severus swallowed his response when the door opened and Kingsley entered. The man looked almost exactly the same, Severus noted. Only someone who knew Kingsley well could have recognised the additional lines around his eyes and the drawn edge that stress had given to his face. Someone who didn't know him might actually have commented that he looked good, having lost a few pounds in the years after taking office. But Severus had known Kingsley Shacklebolt rather well over the years, and he knew that the former Auror had been all muscle, with no body fat to lose.

To Severus's surprise and the obvious dismay of Kingsley's protective detail, Kingsley ignored the others in the room and strode over to greet Severus and shake his hand.

After releasing his hand, Kingsley asked, "Have you found a decent opponent around here?"

"He's done nothing but complain about the paucity of good chess players since your last visit to Gravesend," Lucius said. "Perhaps you could take pity on my suffering and play a game with him after this production is over."

Severus cocked his head and smirked at the shock on the faces of the Aurors who'd trailed Kingsley across the room. "Am I to understand that they _still_ haven't worked it out? I'm highly unimpressed by this generation of Aurors. You'd never have missed something like that."

Kingsley's booming laugh echoed in the rafters, gathering everyone's attention. "Since I'll apparently not get away with it again, we'd better get started, hadn't we? I'd hate to miss our next game."

A short, sharp nod was all that Severus could manage. His heart felt as if it had seized in his chest. As he walked next to Kingsley, barely listening to what the man was saying, he stared at Potter, trying to impress upon his miniscule brain the absolute unacceptability of failure.

~*~

After swallowing the Veritaserum that Jones placed on her tongue, Hermione took her place in the protective circle that the Aurors had created. Watching the others take the potion and join her, she reminded herself that she was part of this. She might not be able to do anything today except watch the four former Death Eaters bow and scrape before her, but she _had_ helped to make this happen.

She gripped her wand, raised her head, and faced Harry. The curve of his lip and the visible dent his teeth had made in his lower lip brought a smile to her face. Severus and Lucius's utter rigidity revealed reams about their stress levels as well. And the surety of knowing that she wasn't the only nervous one in the circle helped immeasurably.

They could do this.

~*~

The first incomprehensible hiss from Harry's mouth ran through Severus's body and thrummed at his nerves. He could feel the command embedded in the sound, but somehow knew that it wasn't for him.

Instead, he watched Pansy crawl across the room and stop before Kingsley's chair, which against Croaker's and Dawlish's wishes, he'd placed inside the circle. After an obeisance that had her forehead touching the floor and her arms outstretched, she removed his boots. Then, she seated herself and took his feet into her lap. The image should have been ludicrous, but somehow Severus couldn't shake the image of an ancient Pharaoh and his slave.

When the next command sent Lucius over to Hermione, Severus had only a moment to understand how insidious this curse was before he heard Kingsley call his name.

"What?" Severus snapped, feeling a familiar tension vibrate along his spine as he was forced to drag his attention away from Lucius's actions and the odd sense of foreboding that came from the once dormant Dark Mark. It took effort to focus on Kingsley and not fall prey to the amorphous anxiety that filled him. How had he lived with this for all those years and not recognised the dichotomy for what it was?

"Do you enjoy watching what Lucius is doing?"

"No," Severus said, and then, "yes."

"Explain," Kingsley ordered.

Prompted by the Veritaserum burning through his veins, Severus said, "Our master commands and we obey. It's... satisfying to see him perform his duty so well, and yet..." He gritted his teeth, tried to hold back the words that would reveal his weakness, but could not. "I have no command, no duty, and I _need_ to prove that I am also his."

" _You_ want to be Harry Potter's?" Disbelief and disgust coloured Robards's tone.

"No," Severus remonstrated. "Not Harry's. I await only my Lord's command."

The background rumble of voices died away. Severus could feel everyone's shock, could feel his own shock at what he'd just admitted. But then the command came, and he relaxed.

"My Lord," Severus said, and he went over to kneel at Harry's feet. Not what they'd agreed upon, he wanted to protest, but his Lord smiled and gave him his hand and bade him to stand at his left hand. All was well.

~*~

Shaking her head at the change in their carefully designed script, Hermione watched Severus walk over to Harry. The way he moved, the way he flowed into a kneeling position, and then took Harry's hand and stood at Harry's left and just behind him, there was something so very wrong in the way that Severus didn't protest.

Harry seemed vaguely disgusted by the whole thing. Kingsley and his Aurors and Unspeakables, on the other hand, looked horrified. She could see some of their expressions change as the implications of what Harry had done sank in.

Turning to her, amusement threaded through his voice, Kingsley drawled, "This would be the minor glitch you mentioned."

Before Hermione could respond, Croaker said, " _Minor glitch_?" He harrumphed. "Tamben? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?"

"No, sir," Tamben stammered, his face pale in contrast to the dark colours of his Unspeakable uniform. "I... I thought they were—" he cleared his throat "—erm...faking it."

"I see. In that case, when this is over, you will report to me in room 25," Croaker ordered, appearing satisfied at the ashen look on Tamben's face.

Robards snorted. "Useless, the whole lot of them. Snape is right. We need to—"

"Granger?" Kingsley's voice cut across whatever Robards was about to say. "You said you'd solved this _minor glitch_."

"We have." Hermione did her best to project confidence and reassurance. "Harry, himself, asked us to find a way to make it impossible for him to control any of the Death Eaters."

Croaker made a noise of disbelief and shot pointed looks around the circle, where the former Death Eaters remained in the same positions. Pansy still cradled Kingsley's feet in her lap. Lucius continued to crouch before Hermione, leaning his head against her hip. Greg stood protectively behind Bill, glowering at the Aurors and Unspeakables and seemingly prepared to take them on single-handedly. And Severus... the inquiring arch of his eyebrow at Hermione's glance did nothing to reassure her.

"Let them go," she called to Harry, and then had to suppress a smirk as Tamben and a few of the others recoiled from Harry's hissed command.

The press of Lucius's hand against her leg, as he rose to his feet with a fluid grace, gave her an idea. Instead of continuing with the explanation, she suggested, "Before we continue, perhaps Tofts or someone else could verify that the Veritaserum is still effective. I know that I appreciate the comfort of knowing that we're all telling the absolute truth, and I'm sure at least some of you do as well."

The rapidity of their agreement would have been laughable, if Harry's life and freedom hadn't been at stake.

~*~

The release of Severus's Dark Mark brought back memories of the time after Harry had driven the Dark Lord from his body. The feeling of transience, of something settling into hibernation until the right call brought it back to life, was more disturbing, however, now that he knew how real independence felt.

He started to move away from Harry, but something about the hunch of Harry's shoulders drew Severus back. "This will work," he found himself saying. His reassurance was awkward at best, but Harry seemed to appreciate it.

"Thanks," Harry murmured. "I'm sorry that I—"

"No apologies required," Severus said. "We agreed it was necessary."

"But I was supposed to—"

"You made the right choice. Kingsley aside, the rest obviously need to have matters spelled out for them. Dunderheads."

Harry's lips barely curved into a smile, but he stopped worrying his lower lip. And then, to Severus's relief, Bill arrived.

"I'll take care of him." Bill wrapped an arm around Harry, who immediately turned around and pressed himself against Bill, resting his head against Bill's shoulder. "Why don't you take care of yours?"

A quick glance showed that Lucius, Greg, and Pansy were all clustered around Hermione. He strode over to them, arriving at the same time as Tofts and Jones.

The spells to check their Veritaserum levels took seconds. They were well within the range that showed the Veritaserum was still active and capable of forcing them to tell the truth. However, Severus did his own calculations and realised that they would likely drop out of the range before they were done.

"Three more drops, if you please, Ms Tofts," Severus said.

Jones began, "There's enough—"

"For how much longer?" Hermione asked, clearly understanding what he was doing.

"He has a point," Tofts agreed. "If the rest of this takes more than thirty minutes, the Veritaserum will have stopped working."

Although he understood and agreed with the necessity, the tasteless drops were bitter in Severus's mouth. There had been testimony aplenty at his trial — all of it given under the influence of Veritaserum, and none of it deemed sufficient against the undeniable evidence of the tattoo on his arm. That he, a Potions Master, should lack faith in the efficacy of this potion to clear his name in this second attempt added insult to injury.

"We must remain silent and let them do this," Lucius said in an undertone. "Although the necessity stings."

"Indeed," Severus agreed, then unable to resist he whispered, "Did you feel the difference?"

Lucius's nod was cautious, barely visible to anyone who didn't know him. "The hesitation is gone. His commands were less clumsy and more seductive. I could barely tell that his wishes were not my own."

"We have little time. If this doesn't work..."

"Quite," Lucius breathed.

~*~

Hermione backed away from the group of Aurors and Unspeakables gathered around the table, examining the details of the spell and the tattoo they'd created. Bill was in his element, as he explained the subtleties of each intricate level that would contain the ability to cast magic with Parseltongue.

Harry was standing off to one side, being examined by Tofts, Croaker, and a female Unspeakable with patterns carved into her crew cut. He didn't look as if he needed her, so Hermione went over to Kingsley.

"Will it work?" Kingsley asked her.

"We believe so. We haven't tested it fully, for obvious reasons," Hermione replied. "I assume you'll want the spell cast today."

"Once they've finished their tests," Kingsley said, with a nod in Harry's direction. "At that point, they'll be able to confirm whether or not the spell worked."

"Tofts is that good?"

"Marthe Auken is better. She's the Ministry's expert on Parselmouths."

"Harry seems to trust her," Hermione observed, watching Harry give the woman a tremulous smile.

"He's worked with her before, assisting her with some research. She's familiar enough with his magic to judge whether or not your spell worked."

"And if she thinks it didn't?"

The sadness that washed over his face was painful to see. "Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"You could lie to me," she said, but then added, "No, don't. You'll do what you have to do, and I'll do my best to protect him."

~*~

"He going to be all right?" Greg jerked his head at Harry.

"I've never yet heard of a situation where Harry Potter didn't surmount ridiculous odds and come out on top," Severus said, unable to take his eyes off the man in question. He was still disconcerted by the realisation that he didn't want to have to take care of Harry if this failed. And that his reluctance had nothing to do with worries about his own freedom.

"There's a first time for everything." Pansy plucked at her skirt. "And Harry's scared."

"Are you suggesting that Severus and I would craft a spell that failed?" Lucius said, in a mildly threatening tone.

"Of course you wouldn't." Pansy smiled, her relief palpable.

Severus started to respond, but stopped when he saw Bill wave them over. Brushing a hand over the fabric that hid his illicit wand to quell his nerves, Severus strode across the room with Lucius at his side and the others following behind. Whatever happened, he would keep his Slytherins safe.

~*~

In the end, Hermione had agreed with Harry that Unspeakable Auken should create the tattoo. She was the only other person present who was familiar enough with Harry's magic, and having a Ministry employee involved seemed to reassure the Unspeakables and the Aurors.

"It's time, Hermione," Harry said, drawing her attention away from the parchment.

"You'll be fine," she said, not sure whether she was saying it to him or to herself.

"Of course I will." Harry pulled her into his arms, and then whispered into her ear, "If it doesn't work, let Severus and Lucius take care of me. Please?"

"Harry," she began, but he pressed his wand into her hands, brushed a kiss on her cheek, and backed away.

"Don't worry," he called out as he knelt in the centre of the room. Bill, Lucius, and Auken took up positions around him.

Hermione moved until she was facing Harry and stood just outside the circle, as close as she could get without being inside the wards.

"Silence," Bill commanded, and all of the conversations hushed. "The warding circle should protect us from unexpected magic, but I remind everyone that you're here as witnesses and ask you to holster your wands." He placed a possessive hand on Harry's shoulder, and Harry reached up to cover it. His scars stood out against the pale skin of his face, making him appear that much fiercer and more dangerous. "If you fuck this up, I will ensure that you pay."

Kingsley spoke up, his matter-of-fact tone emphasising his seriousness, "Interference with this ritual will result in summary dismissal from the Ministry _and_ immediate arrest. I'll decide the charges later."

When both Croaker and Robards added their support to Kingsley's declaration, Hermione relaxed just a little. Then Severus stepped up to stand next to her, and Kingsley took up a position on her other side. At Bill's nod, she clutched Harry's wand to her and smiled at Harry.

At a complicated gesture with Bill's wand, wards rose between them and met in a dome overhead. A coruscating rainbow of colours gave a visible cue of their presence and identified the protections that Bill had wound into them.

Bill, Lucius, and Auken formed a triangle around Harry. Bill stood behind Harry; Auken and Lucius knelt on opposite sides. Auken had a wand-brush and a pot of ink beside her.

" _Positus_ ," Bill intoned.

Bowing his head, Harry raised his left hand and clasped it around Lucius's forearm, his palm against the Dark Mark.

" _Redimius_."

Lucius used his other hand to brace Harry's left arm and hold it steady.

" _Imagus_."

As Bill chanted the Binding spell and Auken painted, Hermione had to force herself to breathe. The words of the spell echoed through her mind in a chorus of voices, as if all of them were taking part and adding their own magic to the casting. With an effort, she opened herself up to it, sharing everything she had.

" _Praestringus Serpens Magus_." Bill flicked his wand in a complicated arc and tapped it on the sigil that bound Harry's just finished tattoo.

An angry hissing filled the room.

" _Magus Serpens Tradus_ ," Harry responded.

The hissing cut off abruptly.

Hermione shuddered, and Severus brushed her arm. The touch was so fleeting and gentle that it raised goosebumps on her skin. She glanced up at his face. His lips curved in an almost smile, and she grinned back at him.

It had worked. She was sure of it.

~*~

Squinting against the sunshine, Hermione carried her ice cream sundae to a table on Fortescue's outdoor patio that looked out on Diagon Alley. She activated the Shade Charm and began to eat. A few minutes later, Severus and Lucius crossed the street from Flourish and Blotts and joined her.

"What are we celebrating?" Severus asked, as he took the seat next to Hermione.

Hermione smiled at Severus and Lucius. "Didn't you see today's _Prophet_? Only three months after the Wizengamot set you free and, according to the latest Wizard on the Street poll, you not only deserve that freedom, but the majority of the British Wizarding world believes you ought to be compensated for the trauma you suffered at Gravesend." She snorted and spooned up more of her sundae. "Gullible idiots, the lot of them, believing every bit of drivel that rag prints."

"Cousin Rita has done her family proud, once again." Lucius pulled out a chair and sat down.

"I don't know why I was so surprised to learn that she's your cousin," Hermione said.

"Second cousin, once removed," Severus corrected. "As Lucius has mentioned it many times, the distinction is apparently of vital importance."

"All family relationships are of vital importance." Lucius retrieved a spoon from the table behind him and helped himself to Hermione's sundae. "Mint chocolate chip?" He curled his upper lip. "You know I don't care for that flavour."

"Mmmm... But I love it." Hermione raised her spoon and slowly licked the chocolate sauce off it, delighting in the way that Lucius's eyes darkened and Severus's lips twitched.

"So," Severus said. "We're celebrating the Wizarding world's fickle favour?"

"Are we indeed?" Lucius drawled.

"Among other things," Hermione agreed, and then dug her spoon into another mound of ice cream. Cherry vanilla, this time. She let her eyes flutter closed as she savoured the taste. She ate a second, a third, and a fourth spoonful. She'd just flicked her tongue at a drop of chocolate sauce when Severus broke.

He took possession of Hermione's spoon, dipping it into a valley of sauce and holding it in front of her. "Would these _things_ include an acceptance of our offer?"

Hermione smiled at him, swiped her finger through the sauce in the spoon, and placed her finger on his lips. He sucked it in, swirled his tongue around her skin, and released it with a pop.

"And our concerns?" Lucius offered his spoonful of Butterscotch Ribbon to her.

Licking the ice cream off his spoon, Hermione took her time to enjoy it, swallowing before asking, "Do you have any idea how hot you look when you kiss each other?"

"In that case," Severus stood up and held out a hand to each of them, "shall we take this celebration to somewhere a trifle less... public?"

Accepting his hand, Hermione went to stand next to him.

Lucius joined them, slipping his arm around Severus's waist and grasping Hermione's arm. "Shall we draw just a little more attention to ourselves?"

"Why not?" Hermione laughed and drew her wand.

They pulled her close, drawing her between them. Lucius's kiss was a claiming that pressed her back against Severus. Severus's kiss was intense enough to curl her toes. And as they kissed each other, she tightened her hold on them and Apparated.

~fin~


End file.
